


The Grand Marshal Meets the Padawan

by Laura_Sinele



Series: Fictober 2019 drabbles [8]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ahch-To, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grand Marshal Armitage Hux, Jedi Ben Solo, Light Side AU, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-12-14 14:57:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21017657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laura_Sinele/pseuds/Laura_Sinele
Summary: Following Snoke's orders, Hux crashes his shuttle in Ahch-To and let's himself be imprisioned by the infamous last Jedi apprentice Ben Solo.





	The Grand Marshal Meets the Padawan

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Fictober19 prompt #9: "There is a certain taste to it". 
> 
> I want to keep working on this, so if you like it, subscribe to get a notification when further chapters are added. Thank you for reading!

Armitage Hux, Grand Marshal of the First Order’s army, appointed by the Supreme Leader Snoke themselves as their spokesperson, highest ranking cadet in the history of both the Imperial and First Order Military Academies, youngest person to ever reach the rank of General, most prolific engineer of his time, designer and commander of the Starkiller Base, known by friend and foe as Destroyer of Worlds and the Bane of Hosnian Prime, woke up lying on a filthy cot, inside a fisherman’s empty cabin on an island in a remote world, gagged and hand-tied. 

It was all going according to plan. 

The poor excuse for a door creaked open and the light blinded him. An opaque, looming figure, probably human, approached him, set a tray on the floor, and manhandled him into a seating position. When he felt the gag removed, he did something he always found pitiful in prisoners, but he had to play the part. He spit on his captor’s face and braced for a slap that never came. Instead, a deep, kind of bored sigh preceded the rustling of robes and the sound of a person agilely seating on the floor cross legged. As Hux’s eyes grew accustomed to the light, he saw the figure produce a cloth and clean off the offensive spit. 

“It’s not a great idea to bite the hand that feeds you, Grand Marshal”.

So it was a young man. It had to be Ben Solo. If he was, it was all smoothly going according to plan. He guarded his mind as Snoke had taught him, and charged against his captor just to play his part convincingly. And maybe because Solo’s doe eyes, that he was seeing now for the first time, were making him inexplicably furious.

The last padawan was expecting Hux’s onslaught. Faster than Hux could register, he stood up, stepped aside, caught the him in his arms and used his momentum to make him flip and fall on his back against the sturdy, dusty cot. Between Hux’s fits of cough, Ben Solo spoke, his voice betraying smugness and a smile. 

“This is a small island, too far away from the nearest populated area to reach it swimming, not that I doubt the extraordinary skills you acquired during your training. It’s simply too much distance to cover in a very rough sea populated by hungry beasts”.

The Grand Marshal managed to sit up and glare at the young Jedi apprentice, who stifled a laugh and shook his head condescently.

“Look, I am supposed to bring you this food”, he said pointing to the tray he had brought. On top of it sat a jug with clear water and a bowl with some kind of blue, lumpy, steamy goo. “It’d be way easier if you behaved civilly as it befits to your rank, and don’t try to attack me once I untie you. Otherwise, I’d have to Force-feed you, which would be tedious for me and humiliating for you. Do we have an understanding, then?”

Hux glared at Solo for a little longer, and then examined the tray. As a child of the First Order who lived most of his life in military facilities and spaceships, he had never had non-processed food nor water from a spring. The prospect made him feel slightly sick, but he had no other choice. It was all for the greater glory of the Order, Snoke, and ultimately, himself. There was also the idea of being spoon fed, which disgusted him profoundly since he hadn’t needed any kind of assistance in his own sustenance since he was three. 

He looked back at the cocky boy sitting on the floor in front of him, repressed a sneer and nodded, offering him his tied wrists. Now, Hux had grown believing all the tales about Sith and Jedi were exaggerations to glorify an obsolete religion and bound the masses in fear and reverence. Of course, he had witnessed what the Supreme Leader was able to do, and had used khyber in his designs, thus coming to consider the existence in the universe of something similar to what the old Dark and Light monks called the Force. But he had never experienced nothing like that on his own flesh before. 

Ben Solo had his eyes trained on Hux’s and waved his hand casually, as if lazily shooing off an insect. But at that gesture, Hux felt hands on his hands, padding, prodding, looking for bruises and wounds from the shuttle crush up his arms and down his back. He felt the rope tighten for a second and then loosen completely, as the mild pressure on his back washed over his legs, ankles and feet, and rose delicately through his chest. It stopped a few seconds on his throat, pressure increasing, Solo’s smirk widening slightly, and then caressed his face and scalp before leaving him, the ghosting sensation of it sending shivers down his spine. 

Hux made no move, intent on holding Ben’s gaze. The young man gestured invitingly towards the tray, not breaking eye contact either. Slowly, warily, Hux grabbed the tray and sat back on the cot, back against the wall, under the padawan amused scrutiny. Hux held the jug close to his face and took a cautionary sniff before sipping gingerly. It was fresh and clean and it washed off the pins and needles that had been punishing his head since he woke up. He gulped it all anxiously before he could summon any modicum of dignity, earning a chuckle from his one man audience. Then Hux took the bowl in both hands and tested the consistency of the blue mush with the wooden spoon stuck in it. It was thick and smelled rancid. Hux threw an inquisitive look to Ben, who sighed, took a spoonful and swallowed, offering the spoon back to Hux. The Grand Marshal scooped a small portion and cautiously put it in his mouth, immediately spitting it out, gagging and coughing. A bucket full of water appeared swooshing through the door and landed between them. Solo filled the jug in it and gave it to Hux.

“There is a certain taste to it, I must admit. But it’s the main source of protein and fat around here. You’ll get used to it”, explained Ben sympathetically. “Once it cools down it’s even worse, so hurry”, he added pushing the bowl gently towards Hux. 

The stoic army man that had lead Hux through hell and back during his training and low rank years took the wheel and shoved big, crammed spoonfuls of mush in his mouth, swallowing them at once, not giving his taste-buds much time to register offense. Once he finished, Ben took the tray, bowl and spoon away, exclaiming in a mock-soothing tone:

“There we go. That’s a good prisoner right there. Well done, Armitage!”

Hux would have scorched him with a single stare for his mockery and the mention of his given name if he hadn’t been too preoccupied swallowing down the las glob of blue goo. Ben smirked knowingly and left, leaving the bucket of water and the jug behind, and the Grand Marshal untied.


End file.
